A Vial of Submission
by HydrogenPeroxide
Summary: When Harry accidentally imbibes the Draught of Submission, Draco is inspired to new heights of Slytherin cunning. Submissive!Harry Chapter Seven up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine! Just JKR's and her various publishers. This also applies to all later chapters, as well.

"Shhh!" Harry hushed, bringing up a finger to hold against his lips. "We have to be quiet because they're sleeping," he whispered loudly.

Ron nodded vigorously and then gave a low moan. " 'M all dizzy," he slurred, stretching his hand out to steady himself against the wall.

Unfortunately for Ron, he missed the wall and got the door, and lost his footing with a fantastic bang as the door slammed against the wall. Neville gave a terrified yelp and sat up in bed with start.

"Christ!" Seamus grumbled. "Harry? Ron? Is that you?" he asked angrily, reaching for his wand. "Lumos," he muttered, holding the tip out in front of him

"Shhh!" Harry commanded imperiously. He gave Seamus a reproving look. "People are trying to sleep." He gestured grandly at Dean, who had slept through everything. "Come on, Ron," Harry coaxed, holding a hand out to help Ron up. Ron reached up, and it took a moment for the two to actually aim for each other's hands, sniggering all the while. Ron pulled and Harry toppled on top of him with a yelp.

"Will you two shut up?" Seamus hissed.

"Shhh!" Harry ordered. "Don't wake up Dean."

Harry and Ron managed to crawl to their respective beds without too much giggling. Although Ron had thought that Dean's bed was his own, and Seamus had gotten rather upset about that. Harry thought that Seamus was being too loud and told him so, which made Seamus even angrier. Finally, though, each boy was in his own bed.

"Goodnight Ron," Harry whispered. Ron mumbled something back.

"Goodnight, Neville."

"Goodnight, Harry," Neville said in a tired voice.

"Goodnight--"

"Say it Potter and I'll kill you," Seamus threatened.

In a very small whisper Harry said, "Goodnight Seamus." He smiled happily and snuggled into his pillow.

--

"Kill me, Voldermort," he begged

"Harry!" Hermione shrilled, scandalized. Ron and Harry winced, looking like they might cry. "It's your own fault for trusting the twins. Honestly, Ron, why you ever agreed to become their test subject is beyond me."

"For the money," Ron moaned. He looked at Hermione's plate of bacon and eggs and shuddered. "Can't you eat that somewhere else?" he pleaded. Hermione just stared at him, and Ron was the first to look away, switching his ire to the Great Hall. "Why does everyone have to be so fucking _loud_?" he moaned.

"It was good at first," Harry said mournfully. "But then it got a lot…" He looked at Ron.

"It got a lot," Ron agreed, feelingly. He nodded his head and then cringed in pain.

"Don't pain relieving potions work?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Madame Pomfrey won't give them to us!" Harry said bitterly. "She didn't believe us when we said we'd hit our heads."

"Wasn't the point of Fred and George's new product supposed to get you…drunk," Hermione said the word with great distaste, "without a hangover?"

"It sort of worked," Harry admitted. "We don't feel sick."

The headache didn't lessen as the day went on, and by the time they had Potions, he was seriously considering breaking into the Hospital Wing and raiding the potions cupboard.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said smoothly as he walked into the classroom. "For an unkempt uniform," he added, as though remembering he needed at least the pretense of a reason for docking points. Harry couldn't even muster up the energy to glare hatefully.

"The instructions are on the board. You have one hour," Snape intoned, waving his wand at the board. Snape's tiny scrawl appeared and both Ron and Harry appealed to Hermione with pleading looks.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Hermione snapped impatiently. "It's a Pain Relieving potion. Harry, go get the cauldron," she ordered. "Ron, come with me to get the ingredients." Hermione stalked off to the storeroom and Ron followed her, head bowed, complaining.

Neville dropped his cauldron and Harry whimpered at the loud noise. Neville looked at him apologetically before Snape descended on him, taking points off for irresponsible handling of equipment. The pounding in his head and the pressure behind his eyes were driving Harry insane.

"Watch it, Potter," Zabini said shortly when Harry bumped into him.

Harry mumbled and apology and reached for a cauldron. He didn't notice the stunned look on Zabini's face.

The potion was a perfect shade a blue, the second to the last stage before they'd be done. "You'll have to wait for it to cool," Hermione warned, adding in the salamander tails. Ron and Harry nodded dumbly.

"Goyle, look out!" Harry heard Malfoy cry. He turned around and saw Goyle trip and stumble in Harry's direction. In the corner of his eye he could see Hermione's surprised expression.

"Hermione the--" Harry started to say, but Goyle careened into Harry, who was shoved against the table, which caused the table to tip over and the cauldron to land upside-down on the floor.

"Detention, Potter," Snape said somewhere above Harry, who was squashed beneath Goyle. "It was your haphazardly placed book bag that caused Mr. Goyle to fall." Snape sounded rather muffled to Harry, but he gathered that Snape wasn't confessing his undying love for him. Harry sighed, grateful when Goyle got off of him.

"Harry." Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, the potion…" she trailed off, gesturing to the floor.

"That'll be a zero for today," Snape said smoothly. Hermione flinched as though she'd been slapped. Ron sighed. Snape left and began to inspect a nervous Neville's potion.

He really hated today.

Hermione left them after their class to go study in the library. The entire day she had been quiet, not even raising her hand once in Herbology. That she hadn't even invited them to study with her told the boys that Hermione was in desperate need of alone time. Ron and Harry went upstairs to sleep off the rest of their hangovers, which hadn't lessened in any way throughout the day. Harry had almost fallen asleep when Neville burst into the room with a loud whoop.

"Neville, I will kill you," Harry swore.

"They worked!" Neville shouted. "He said there was nothing wrong with them!"

"Snape?" Ron asked, eyeing the bottles Neville was setting down on his nightstand.

"Yes," Neville said. "Just wait till I tell my Gran!"

"Neville," Harry began, struggling for calmness. "Neville, you have Pain Relieving potions?" he asked.

"And Snape said they were fine?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Neville said happily. "I'm going to go to the Owlrey and tell Gram." He grabbed his cloak and scarf and tore out of the room.

Ron and Harry leapt out of bed and stood side by side at Neville's nightstand. "One of them is a lighter blue than the other," Ron noted dubiously, pointing to one of the vials.

"Whatever," Harry said eagerly, reaching for it. "What does the color matter? Snape said they were fine, didn't he?" He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and guzzled down the potion. Harry swayed. "Wow," he said, blinking.

Ron still looked dubious, but when Harry didn't faint or foam at the mouth or explode, he shrugged his shoulders and reached for a bottle. He grimaced.

"I hate how foul those things are," he said, shuddering at the aftertaste.

"Yours was bad?" Harry asked, surprised. "Mine tasted like apples. Maybe Neville improved on Snape's recipe? No more pain though, anyway."

Ron's stomach growled and they laughed, leaving the room in high spirits.

As they walked down the stairs to the Great Hall Harry started to feel peculiar. Oh, nothing was really _wrong_ but he felt…fluttery and nervous, as though he had forgotten something. He tugged at his shirt, fretting at a loose thread.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, giving him a funny look.

"Yeah!" Harry said brightly, beaming at Ron. "Are, are you happy, Ron?" he asked, his smile faltering. Harry felt stretched tight with nerves, the same way he used to feel when the Dursleys would inspect his worth. Was it good enough? Would they like it?

"Wish I had a better broom," Ron said absently as he looked at the portraits. "Hey, there's a Quidditch Captain in the painting with the chickens." He laughed, pointing.

"You can have my Firebolt," Harry said in a rush, looking eagerly at Ron.

Ron's mouth dropped and he stared at Harry. "I'll go get it right now," Harry said excitedly, turning to race back up the stairs. He got as far as the next step before Ron's hand yanked him back.

"Harry!" Ron said, utterly gobsmacked. "You think I want your Firebolt?" Ron asked.

Harry winced. "Was I insensitive? Of course I was! Your brothers have been going you their old stuff all of your life, and here I go be a prat and offer you my used Firebolt." he asked, his eyes clouded with remorse. "I'm sorry!" Harry cried, wrapping his arms around Ron and burying his face in Ron's shoulder.

Ronald Weasley had thought that he had been shocked when he learned that the boy his mum helped get through Platform Nine and Three Quarters was Harry Potter. He thought he'd been shocked when Harry had become the youngest seeker in a century. He thought he'd been shocked when he saw Hermione in that dress for the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. Compared to this, though, those other times were merely minor tingly sensations.

Traffic had frozen on the stairs, people staring outright at the two boys. A flustered Third Year Ravenclaw actually lost her footing on an invisible step. Whispers of a lovers' tiff were already spreading, and Ron felt his face flush with embarrassment. This was definitely not going to improve his chances of getting a girlfriend. Ron patted Harry's back awkwardly and gently disentangled himself from Harry.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered to Harry, jamming his hands in his pockets and walking quickly down the rest of the stairs. Harry sniffed and followed Ron, completely unaware of the scene he had just caused. "It's um, okay," Ron said as they entered the Great Hall. "I know you were just trying to be a mate," he finished, very uncomfortable with the emotional look in Harry's eyes.

"I just want you to be happy," Harry said eagerly, his eyes shining.

"I'm happy, I'm happy," Ron assured him. He looked at Harry. "I think maybe the twins' new product isn't settling well with you. Maybe I should owl them and let them know not to sell it before fixing…" he paused, looking at Harry's earnest face, "whatever it is that's wrong with you," he finished lamely.

Harry laughed. "I feel great," he assured Ron. He missed that fluttering feeling he had on the staircase when he'd asked Ron if he were happy, but he felt enormously relieved to know that Ron hadn't been offended by his offer. He beamed at Ron, who looked rather alarmed.

"If you're sure," Ron said doubtfully, reaching over Harry's plate for the mashed potatoes.

"Oh, I'll get that Ron," Harry said, dropping his fork on his plate and picking up the bowl. He didn't notice how a good portion of the table stopped eating to stare at him. He served Ron with a look of bliss on his face. "Is that enough? Do you want anymore?" he asked.

"Uh…" Ron stuttered, his ears burning red.

"I'll have some, Harry," Seamus broke in, stretching out his plate. "It's the least you can do after last night."

"I'm really sorry about last night, Seamus," Harry said, wincing as he leaned over the table to serve Seamus. He opened his mouth to offer his Firebolt when he remembered Ron. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked instead, blushing and looking up at Seamus through his lashes.

Seamus' eyes widened. Harry bit his lip, once again feeling nervous. Goosebumps tingled on his arms, and he licked his lips. Seamus hadn't said anything, and the stretch of silence pressured Harry to babble, offering anything. "You probably don't want my Firebolt, but I have a neat quill that punctuates your sentences. And I have some Honeydukes chocolate, and, and," Harry stutterd. Seamus just continued to stare at him, and Harry began to blink back tears. Suddenly it came to him. What if Seamus didn't want things? What if he wanted….something else from Harry.

Harry took a breath and looked Seamus in the eyes. "Or maybe we could do something else," he said softly. He saw the connection Seamus made, and Harry's breath became shallower as Seamus gave Harry a roaming, appraising look.

Whatever Seamus might have said was interrupted by Neville shaking Harry on the shoulder. Neville looked agitated and was clutching the two empty vials of potion that Harry and Ron had drunk. "Harry, someone drank my potions!" Neville said, his face pale.

"Oh, sorry about that, Neville," Ron said sheepishly. "Harry and I had splitting headaches today, and we drank them. Sorry about that. We'll make you more if you want."

"But that wasn't a Pain Relieving potion," Neville said, growing pale. "That was the Draught of Submission." All eyes turned to Harry.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"Oooh," Lavender said, turning to Parvati. "It's just like Professor Trelawney predicted." The two girls looked solemnly at Harry.

"Are you saying that old fraud said that Harry would drink Neville's Drought of Submission?" Ron demanded, twisting in his seat to glare at the two girls.

"Not exactly," Parvati sniffed, staring at Ron disdainfully. "She said that Harry would be going through some major changes in the near future, and I think turning submissive is a major change."

"Lovely," Ron said sarcastically. "Harry's fine. There's nothing to see, okay?" he said loudly to the other Gryffindors who were staring down the length of the table to gawk at Harry. "Come on, Harry," Ron muttered, standing up.

Harry began to stand up when Seamus grabbed his wrist. "Don't forget," Seamus said, rubbing his thumb on the inside of Harry's wrist. Harry's eyes grew wide and he nodded once. Seamus raised Harry's hand to his mouth and kissed it, scraping his teeth over Harry's knuckles. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, leaning into Seamus' touch.

"Seamus!" Ron cried, glaring. "You're taking advantage of him!" he snapped as he ripped Harry from the other boy. Harry lost his balance on the bench and fell backward. He flailed his arm out, trying to catch himself on Ron but Ron was yelling at Seamus and didn't see Harry falling.

A sharp crack reverberated through Harry's head with immense pain riding close behind it. Voices cried out above him and he saw a fuzzy shapes lean over him before he blacked out.

--

Consciousness eluded him like a snitch, fluttering in and out of his reach. He heard voices, but they were far away and muffled, as though he were pressing his ear against the door to reality and catching only a few words out of every sentence. His head hurt, and he was tempted to stay snuggled in unconsciousness. But the combination of Hermione's shrill hysteria and Neville's panicked babbling finally roused him.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cried, clutching his hand.

Harry squinted at her and someone handed him his glasses. He rather wished he had left them off when he saw Hermione's tear stained face, Neville and Ron's guilty expressions, and the crowd of professors behind the three them. Professor Sprout looked concerned, her hand on Neville's shoulder. Professor Snape's arms were folded, a look of disgust on his face. Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a grave line.

Madame Pomfrey appeared at the other side of his bed, looking grim. "It would seem, Mr. Potter, that you have taken a Drought of Submission intended for the Whomping Willow's annual pruning."

Harry blinked at her. "The Whomping Willow," he echoed. Neville stepped forward; still clutching the vials Harry and Ron had drunk.

"I was going to help Professor Sprout with the Whomping Willow," he explained, looking miserable. He looked over to Professor Sprout who nodded encouragingly at Neville. "We have to give the Whomping Willow the Drought of Submission everyday for a week before it'll let us prune it without trying to kill us."

Harry nodded. "So I'm fine, because I haven't been taking it for a week. I only drank the one, right?"

Neville looked like he might cry.

"The Drought of Submission is meant to be imbibed over a period of time so as to weaken an individual without causing irreparably damage," Snape cut. "Due to its size, the Whomping Willow requires much more potion than you do."

Harry looked at Hermione. "Harry," she said, squeezing his hand. "Harry, full grown adults are supposed to have one vial," she gestured to the one Neville held, "in a week, having just a little bit every day." She paused, giving Harry a searching look. "And you're not…fully grown," she finished, biting her lip.

"But I'm fine!" Harry insisted, rather cross with his petite stature. "I'm not being all weak and submissive right now, am I?" he demanded, looking from Hermione to Snape.

"Remember Seamus, Harry?" Ron asked. "And me? On the stairs?"

Harry paled, tugging his hand out of Hermione's grip. "I was just concerned about you," he said angrily to Ron. He drew his knees up to his chest, locking his arms around them. "And I felt guilty about Seamus. That's it," he said flatly.

"He was all over you," Ron said, exasperated. "And you just let him!"

Harry scowled. "That's between Seamus and I," he said firmly. "It has nothing to do with any potion," he insisted.

"Clap your hands, Potter," Snape shouted. Everyone in the room jumped, startled, and Hermione stifled a cry, covering her mouth with her hands as Harry started clapping, a stunned expression on his face. Snape looked grimly satisfied.

"Harry, stop it," Ron cried, lurching forward to grab Harry's hands.

Harry struggled against Ron, looking at Snape beseechingly, and gave a very soft moan. Ron swore, rounding on Snape.

"Stop it!" he yelled, his eyes alight with fury and his face red.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Potter," Snape said lazily. "I think you see now that you are not 'fine'," he sneered. Harry stopped, his cheeks flushed.

"Is there an antidote?" Professor McGonagall asked. It was the first time she had spoken.

"Yes," Snape said. Everyone looked up hopefully at the news. "But it takes a month to brew," he finished.

"A month?" Ron demanded. Neville gave a low moan. "You mean for a month he's going to be like, like _this_?"

"So if You-Know-Who tells Harry to kill himself he'll do it?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"No," Harry said, panic lacing his voice. "It's not the Imperius curse, and I can fight that off."

"That's right!" Ron said, looking relieved for a moment before he frowned. "But then why couldn't you fight off Snape?" he asked, looking troubled.

Harry looked down at his hands. He didn't want to tell Ron that obeying Snape had been…pleasurable. He was glad he was piled under blankets. He would prefer it if no on could see how hard he was.

When Harry didn't answer Ron turned to Snape. "The Drought of Submission is in a way worse than the Imperius curse," Snape said coldly. "The victim doesn't want to disobey because of how obeying makes him feel," he finished, staring at Harry. Everyone was silent for a few seconds, trying to work out the vagueness of what Snape had said.

"How did you feel, Harry?" Hermione finally asked, her voice shaking.

"Good," Harry whispered. He shuddered, recalling the pleasure of obeying. Good didn't even begin to cover it. His body still tingled in the wake of the intensity of his need to please Snape with his obedience.

Ron looked sick, and Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. Harry remained frozen, letting their voices wash over him. Would he be this way forever? Would he be at the mercy of everyone's whims?

"The intensity of the victim's response is directly proportional to the intensity behind the other person's command in addition to the victim's level of comfort with the person," Snape continued with clinical detachment.

Ron and Hermione were silent. Harry couldn't help but think Neville was rather lucky he hadn't been the one to drink the Drought of Submission. A command from Snape to Neville would probably make…Harry cut that thought off, blushing. He had his own problems to deal with without musing on hypothetical situations. Harry thought of Draco Malfoy and a thrill of terror coursed through his body. No, no, _bad_ Harry. He would have to stay away from Malfoy. Far, far, away.

"Mr. Potter will you _please_ pay attention?" Professor McGonagall asked in a strained voice. "I would think that you'd like to be involved in matters concerning your wellbeing."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry," he murmured, sitting up a little straighter. It was then he noticed how Neville, Ron and Hermione had created a protective half-circle around him.

"Professor," Neville said, his features fixed in a determined look, "I'll be his bodyguard. It was my fault."

"If it's anyone's fault it's Potter's," Snape disagreed. Harry wasn't surprised Snape saw it that way. In fact, Harry rather saw it that way, although a part of him wanted to blame it on Madame Pomfrey for not giving Ron and him Pain Reliving potion in the first place. Then what Neville said clicked in his mind.

"I don't want a bodyguard," he said quickly.

"Nonsense, Potter. You'll need one," Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Just imagine what would happen if you were told to go jump in the lake by Mr. Mal—" she caught herself. "By someone." she finished lamely.

"Or fall off your broom," Ron said, looking rather ill at the thought.

"Or kill yourself," Hermione said looking frightened. Harry rather thought that Snape looked wistful.

"I think, perhaps, Professor McGonagall, that Mr. Potter shouldn't play Quidditch," Professor Snape said. "Passions run high during athletic events and things that aren't truly meant are said. It's just too dangerous."

Professor McGonagall nodded, and Ron, Harry, and Neville stared at her, their mouths hanging open, and then all began to speak at once.

"There's a match this weekend!"

"I want to play!"

"Gryffindor doesn't have a reserve seeker!"

"Earplugs!"

Everyone stopped and stared at Hermione who looked determined. "They're a Muggle device, but we could magically enhance them," she explained. "Then Harry could play."

Harry could have kissed her, but Ron did. He grabbed her face between his hands and planted an exuberant kiss on her lips. "You're brilliant, Hermione!" he said excitedly. "Best Witch in the year!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was getting rather tired of following Hermione around in the library, but she wouldn't let him out of her sight. Ron had skived off after only fifteen minutes, leaving Harry to fend for himself with a Hermione possessed in her need to know everything about the Draught of Submission.

"Listen, Harry," she said for what must have been the hundredth time. "People who have taken the Draught of Submission have historically been hidden by their families from their worst enemies." She looked thoughtfully at Harry, whose eyes widened under her thoughtful gaze. With a sigh she shook her head. "No, you'd miss too many lessons," she said.

Harry gave a sigh of relief. Whatever scheme she'd dismissed he was pretty sure it involved him being hidden from Malfoy.

A loud crash erupted from the other side of the library. Hermione looked annoyed. "Honestly, can't people be more mature," she said, irritated. She looked over to Madam Pince's desk, but for once, Harry was shocked to see, the woman had abandoned her post.

Another crash, followed by a young girl's squeal of fear, made Hermione stand up. "Come on, Harry," she said grimly, a look of set determination on her face. Harry half pitied the fool who dared disturb Hermione's sanctuary.

Crabbe and Goyle loomed over a cowering Hufflepuff.

"Stay back, Harry," Hermione ordered, drawing out of her wand. "You're vulnerable." Harry hid behind a bookshelf, peeking through the shelves at the scene unfolding.

"You leave that First Year alone!" Hermione said, glaring at the Slytherins.

"I'm a Third Year!" the Hufflepuff squeaked.

Harry watched Hermione wince and he smothered a laugh. Two strong hands gripping his shoulder, however, made all thoughts of laughter fly out of his head.

"Well, well, well," a darkly amused voice purred in Harry's ear. "Look what I've found." Harry shivered and the grip tightened, drawing Harry against his captor's chest. "Like that, Potter?" the voice whispered, squeezing Harry's arse.

Harry nodded, his face flushed in pleasure.

Abruptly the other boy was gone and Harry moaned, distressed. He turned around and gasped when he saw Draco Malfoy leaning against the bookshelf. Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"It seems the rumors are true then," Draco said softly, fixing a predatory look at Harry. Harry swallowed. "Come with me, Potter," Draco ordered, walking away at a brisk pace.

For the first time since Draco touched him Harry became aware of Hermione calling his name. For a second, Harry didn't know what to do. Then Draco looked over his shoulder at him, and Harry sent Hermione a mental apology before following Draco.

Draco led them through the library, evading Hermione's frantic calls. Harry knew he should feel guilty, but watching Draco's delectable arse as the other boy walked drove any thoughts of guilt from his head.

Draco stopped abruptly at a portrait and whispered a few words before the painting swung open. Any other time, Harry would never have dreamed about following his arch nemesis into an unknown passageway to an unknown destination. Any other time, Harry would have taken a moment to appreciate the fact that Draco knew a secret passage way that not even the Marauders had discovered, but not now. The only thing on Harry's mind was Draco. The feel of Draco behind him, Draco's hot breath in his ear, and Draco touching him.

The passageway was pitch black, and Draco grabbed Harry's wrist in a painful grip, leading the way. Harry thrilled at the contact. His breathing hitched and he heard Draco chuckle.

"Eager, aren't we," Draco murmured. When Harry didn't respond Draco tightened his grip on Harry's hand.

"Yes!" Harry moaned, stumbling after Draco.

--

Edited, see Author's Notes

--

"Ron!" Hermione said shrilly, bursting into the Common Room.

Ron dropped the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading and looked nervously at Hermione. "Hermione, I--"

Hermione cut him off. "Ron, he's gone!" she cried.

"What?" he demanded, jumping up.

Hermione shook her head, her brown hair swinging across her face. "I lost him in the library. We need the map!"

"But Harry locks his trunk," Ron said as they raced up the stairs.

"_Alohamora_!" Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at the trunk. Nothing happened. She tried other charms, but none of them worked.

"We've got to go to McGonagall," Hermione said, racing back down the stairs. Ron swore and followed her.

But Professor McGonagall wasn't at her office, or her classroom, and so they went to the teachers' lounge. Professor Snape had answered the door to their frantic knocking and had taken a point from Gryffindor for knocking in a rude manner.

"Well?" he demanded, staring at Ron's red face. He stepped out of the lounge and shut the door behind him.

Ron opened his mouth and then shut it.

"How eloquent," Snape sneered.

"Professor, we need to speak to Professor McGonagall," Hermione said quickly before Ron could say anything.

"She's not here," Snape said.

"But, Harry's in trouble," Hermione cried in dismay. "I lost him in the library, sir. Crabbe and Goyle were harassing a Hufflepuff, and I told Harry to stay away, and then he disappeared!"

Snape's eyes widened fractionally. "Potter slipped your leash, did he?"

Ron's eyes snapped furiously. "We don't have a bloody leash on him," he said heatedly. "We're trying to protect him!"

"Language, Weasley," Snape said lazily. "Five Points from Gryffindor." Ron's ears burned even redder than his face, but he shut his mouth.

"You two will return to Common Room while I look for Potter," Snape ordered.

Ron opened his mouth and Hermione stepped on his foot. "Yes, Professor," she said, dragging Ron away by the elbow.

Once they turned down another hallway Ron shook her off. "How can you just go back to the Common Room like that!" he demanded.

Hermione flicked an annoyed glance with him. "Because we're not going back to the Common Room," she said simply.

Ron blinked. "We're not?"

"No," Hermione said grimly. "We're going to get Dobby."

--

Harry Potter didn't want to take off his towel in front of Draco Malfoy, and Draco knew it.

Draco gave Harry a feral smile, making the smaller boy clutch the towel even tighter around his chest. He knew he could just order Harry to strip, and Harry would do it, but Draco didn't like to play nice. He didn't want to make it easy for Harry. He leaned his head against the rim of the Prefects' tub, staring at Harry through the corner of his eye. Harry looked relieved, thinking that Draco's attention was elsewhere, and lowered his towel to his waist. He hesitated before finally dropping the towel to the floor.

"Finally."

Edited, see Author's Notes

--

Dobby raced to throw himself headlong into the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace and would have made it if Ron hadn't been expecting it. Dobby struggled against Ron.

"Dobby is a bad House Elf! Dobby is a bad friend to Harry Potter!" Dobby shouted, straining for the fireplace.

"Dobby!" Hermione cried. "Dobby you mustn't. Harry wouldn't want you to do that."

"Do what?"

Ron, Hermione, and Dobby whipped their heads round to the door, where a freshly washed Harry Potter stood staring at them.

"Where have you been?"

"Where the bloody hell did you go?"

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry blinked. "Taking a bath," he said.

TBC

AN For some reason, is not letting me post the link to the unedited version. What you can do to see the full version, please visit me at skyehawke . com archives, and my author name is HydrogenPeroxide. Check it out! 


	4. Chapter 4

"Where have you been?"

Draco paused in the Slytherin Common Room entryway. Blaise reclined in a sunken leather chair in front of the fire, a small black book in his lap, and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

"Verifying rumors about Potter," Draco drawled, settling himself in another chair. He leaned against the arm of his chair, propping his chin up with his hand, and smirked suggestively at Blaise.

"And?" Blaise prompted, with a decidedly non-Dumbledore twinkle glittering in his black eyes. "The verdict?" Draco raised his eyebrows in mocking surprise.

"Just how curious are you, Blaise?" Draco asked mildly, dusting imaginary lint from his trousers.

"My Firebolt for twenty-four hours, that's how much," Blaise said, a touch of bite in his voice.

Draco seemed to turn the idea around in his head, tasting it for opportunities and advantages. After a moment, he nodded Blaise leaned forward, just barely managing to catch his book as slid off his lap. "True," he finally said, leaning back into the back of his chair, smirking. "Submissive, virgin, and fan-fucking-tastic to shag," he said, ticking the rumors off on his fingers.

Blaise's eyes widened. "Prove it," he demanded.

"Eager, aren't we," Draco murmured. "That wasn't part of the deal, Blaise. What else do you have to offer?"

Blaise looked at Draco with calculated interest. Draco waited, and finally Blaise spoke.

"Your Astronomy semester project," he said "for an experience with a Pensieve."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Blaise. "And what grade will you guarantee with your Firebolt as insurance?"

Blaise snorted. "Not all of us are as dismal in Astronomy as you, Draco." He smiled mockingly at him.

Draco shrugged. Blaise was the best in their year when it came to Astronomy. Granger would probably give one of her fingers to have Blaise's depth and breadth of knowledge of the subject. He was sure it must gall her to come second a long ways behind Blaise. Still, Blaise would fuck him over just for the pleasure of knowing he could.

"I want the highest grade in the class."

"Fuck off," Blaise said without batting an eye. "Second."

"Fine. But I don't want to tie with Granger," Draco said smoothly. He hadn't been expecting first anyway. "We'll use Severus' Pensieve," he said, standing up.

As he led the way down to Snape's office Draco wondered what Harry was doing. Harry had looked rather well tumbled when he'd left the Prefect's Bathroom. Had Granger exploded? Was Harry on his knees, begging for forgiveness? Draco remembered Harry's pleading for his forgiveness earlier and felt his edit stir.

Draco disabled the wards on the door to Snape's office and he poked his head in the doorway. "Severus?" he called. When no answer came he stepped into the office. "It's in the locked cupboard up there," he said, pointing to the small cupboard above the potions cabinet.

Draco cast a silencing charm he knew Blaise didn't know around himself (he had some respect for his godfather's privacy, after all) before pointing his wand at the cabinet and whispering a powerful unlocking spell.

He carefully floated the Pensieve down to the desk; sweat beading on his forehead with the pressure not to drop the expensive magical bowl. Once it was settled, he rolled his shoulders and broke the silence charm around him.

"One time," he warned Blaise as he drew the memory out with his wand.

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Alright," Draco said. "Let's go."

"You're coming with me?" Blaise asked warily. "Why?"

Draco sneered at him. "Because he's fucking hot."

The undertone of possessiveness in his voice was not lost on Blaise. Draco was possessive about practically everything he owned, and even those things he didn't own, which Blaise supposed was the category Harry Potter fell into.

"I'm going first," Blaise said, striding over to the Pensieve and bending over until his face touched the liquid. Draco looked around the room once more to make sure no one was coming and then joined Blaise in the memory.

He had taken them to the point just before he had surprised Harry in the bookshelves. Once again he appreciated just how sly he had been to send Crabbe and Goyle to find a student to intimidate. Blaise stared, absorbed, at Draco's memory self grab Potter. Blaise stepped closer, drinking in Harry's trembling form and dazed eyes.

"Bloody hell," Blaise whispered.

"Mmm," Draco agreed.

"Bloody hell!" Blaise repeated. "He just followed you?" He stared disbelievingly at Draco for a brief second as they followed Harry and Draco's memory self.

"Obviously. Now watch."

"Eager, aren't we," his memory murmured. When Harry gasped his reply Draco saw the bulge in Blaise's trousers. Draco smirked, undeniably pleased. He had been Potter's _first_. He would be the one Potter would compare everyone else to.

Edited, see Author's Notes

Blaise laughed in dazed disbelief, and Draco flicked his eyes briefly at him, before turning back to watch Harry. He remembered being reluctant to pull out of Harry's hot, tight arse, and Harry whimpered in exhaustion as he did.

"Can I have him?" Blaise asked suddenly.

Draco snorted but didn't turn around. "No."

"Oh, so he's yours now?" Blaise sneered.

"If you try to take him from me, Blaise, I'll kill you." He looked over his shoulder, a dangerous look in his eyes, and gave Blaise a cold, mean smile. "He's mine." It was his last warning.

"Sharing is caring, Draco" Blaise said dryly. "Bloody hell, fine. What are you going to do with him now? Does he even know he's yours?"

Draco's smile lost its edge and he cocked an eyebrow at Blaise while he did up his trousers. "I think he's rather well aware of the fact that he's mine. Or weren't you paying attention?" he asked with wicked amusement.

"Where are you going now?" Blaise asked, watching Harry and Draco approach a portrait of Lady Bahiya, a famous duelist during the fourteenth century. She was fanning herself and gave Draco's memory a saucy wink.

"That wasn't part of the bargain," Draco said silkily. "Time to go." He gripped Blaise's arm and they tumbled out of the memory and into reality.

They had just come out of the Pensieve when Draco heard a dreadfully familiar clicking of boots on the floor echoing through the hallway. Both he and Blaise froze, staring at each other in horror.

"Shite," Draco breathed. For an instant, he toyed with the idea of stunning himself with Blaise's wand and claiming that Blaise had forced him to take Blaise into Snape's office, use the Pensieve, and had stunned Draco.

As if Blaise knew what he was thinking he shook his head. "Bloody hell," he hissed. "What are we going to do?"

"Hide," Draco said grimly.

"But the memory, the Pensive, the wards!" Blaise spluttered.

"No, you hide. I'll take care of this." Blaise looked around frantically for a hiding spot. But Snape was not a frivolous man and did not have any suitable furniture that would hide a desperate Slytherin. Snape's footsteps grew louder, and louder.

Blaise had a burst of inspiration severely lacking in Hufflepuffs and transfigured himself into black three-legged stool.

Draco blinked.

"Draco."

He looked up, and in the doorway was a rather surprised Potions Master. Draco smiled weakly, still rather stunned at Blaise's brilliance.

"Good evening, Severus," he said.

Snape looked pointedly at the Pensieve. "I…had a memory I had to look at," Draco explained. He silently applauded himself on having the forethought to not try to lie to the man considering Severus could smell a lie faster than he could take points from Gryffindor.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know?"

"No, not really." At least in this he didn't have to corners. He pushed the tip of his wand into the Pensieve and drew out his memory. The silvery strand dangled from his wand for his moment before he pressed the tip against his head. He tingled for a moment while the memory swam around, looking for its niche. Once it settled he blinked rapidly.

Snape was looking rather closely at the stool. Thankfully, though, a shadow concealed most of Blaise.

"Is that yours?"

Draco tried not to look at the stool as though it were anything more than a stool. "I brought it," he said carefully. "Thanks, though, Severus, for the Pensieve. Damn useful. Sleep well. See you in class tomorrow." Gods, he was babbling. He floated the Pensieve back up to the cabinet and nodded at Severus as though nothing were out of the ordinary and grabbed the stool, forcing himself to walk, not run, out of his godfather's office.

TBC

A/N: So sorry about the links on the last chapter! I didn't realize they weren't working.

Now, to see the un-edited version of this chapter, please visit the archives at skyehawke . com . My penname is HydrogenPeroxide, and you can find me by using the Author's Directory

Hope you enjoyed it, please review!

He flet


	5. Chapter 5

Snape hadn't been able to find Potter anywhere and made a mental note to take a gratifying number of points off of Gryffindor the next day for wasting his time. He walked down the corridors, scowling at anyone and everyone. A third year Hufflepuff, who looked as though she'd had a rather trying day, threw herself into an empty classroom when she saw him approach.

Suddenly he was struck by a disturbing thought. What if Potter was raiding his supply cupboards like he had done in his second year?

He walked to his office as fast as he could without compromising his image.

"Draco," he said, surprised. It was then that he noticed that his Pensieve was out, and a stool that was most certainly not his. He stared at it. For the oddest reason it looked rather familiar to him. He tried to study it more closely but it was sitting in a damn shadow.

"Is that yours?" he asked Draco.

"I brought it," his godson said, looking rather odd. Snape barely even noticed that Draco was floating the Pensieve away. Draco babbled something as he picked up the stool and walked out of Snape's office.

Oh well. It was just a stool.

Now why was his godson in need of a Pensieve?

Before Snape retrieved the Pensieve he made himself a cup of tea. It was a little known fact that he drank teas before all events that lent themselves to be upsetting. Like Death Eater meetings and Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions classes. He was probably foolish for deliberately putting himself in harm's way, but he couldn't help himself. Draco had just looked so flustered. Rather flushed, in fact, as though he had just come from Quidditch practice or some other invigorating activity. Besides, he was Draco's godfather. It was his duty to do these sorts of things when they involved his godson.

Snape eyed the Pensieve thoughtfully and took a sip of tea. Obviously, Draco wasn't aware of the fact that extracted memories left traces, like skid marks, in a Pensieve. Naturally, he wouldn't be able to see exactly what Draco had been up to, but in all likelihood he'd get the gist. He swirled his wand in the swirling water, looking for a dull strand, a shadow of the memory Draco had put in and taken out.

Ah, there it was.

He pressed his face against the surface, and was sucked in the memory.

A minute later, he emerged screaming and ran for the loo, where he was violently ill.

--

Hermione was sitting on Harry's bed when he and Ron got back from Quidditch practice. Ron groaned.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron grumbled. "Harry's fine, aren't you, mate?"

Harry nodded, smiling encouragingly at Hermione.

"I don't think that you understand just vulnerable Harry is, Ron," Hermione said sternly. "People have died because of the Draught of Submission, you know." She turned to Harry. "You just can't go gallivanting around without protection. And that you won't even tell us where you were makes me think that something happened to you!"

"Hermione, honestly, I'm fine."

"No you're not!" Hermione said, practically shouting. "If you were you'd tell us where you really went!"

Harry flinched at the volume of her voice and stepped closer to Ron.

Hermione saw and looked pained.

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "There's something you should probably know, about me," he said, not able to look at either of them. He bit his lip. "I'm gay," he said softly.

"And?" Ron asked. "I mean, no offense mate, it's just a little random, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, and Hermione smiled at him. "It's not like in the Muggle World, Harry," she said.

"What's it like in the Muggle World?" Ron asked curiously. "Do you have to wear armbands like those other people?" He looked questioningly at Hermione.

Hermione rolled his eyes. "Ron, that was the Holocaust," she said. "Honestly," she muttered. "In the Muggle World people aren't as accepting. Homosexuals are belittled, abused, and don't have the same civil rights as straight people."

Ron snorted.

"It isn't like that in the Wizarding World?" Harry asked, looking hopeful.

"Of course not," Ron said. "The Minister of Magic's gay, isn't he?" he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"_Fudge_?" Harry gaped at the two of them. "_Fudge_?" he repeated. He was silent for a moment before looking up at Ron. "Are he and Percy you know…" he trailed off, blushing.

Ron looked rather green but nodded.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Hermione, I'm not going to tell you what I did, but I don't want you to worry. I'm fine." Hermione looked dubiously at him and he sighed. "Honestly, Hermione, I'm really, really fine." He smiled. "Okay?"

Hermione looked somewhat mollified when she left to go to bed. Dean and Neville had come in, inviting Harry and Ron for a game of gobstones, but Harry declined. He was absolutely knackered. Between studying with Hermione, being shagged out of his mind, escaping Hermione's insistent questions, and Quidditch practice, he was ready for bed. He had set his glasses on his nightstand and pulled off his shirt when he heard a low whistle from the doorway.

"Getting ready, Harry?" Seamus purred. Harry reached for his glasses but Seamus was faster. "Accio glasses. You look so sweet without them, Harry."

Harry felt his pulse quicken. He could hear Seamus' approaching footsteps, but everything he saw was distorted. He felt terribly disoriented and sat down on his bed. "Give me back my glasses, Seamus," he said, his voice quivering.

"No can do, Harry. I like your eyes too much to have them hidden behind these ugly frames." He sat down on Harry's bed, putting his hand on Harry's thigh.

Harry leaned away from Seamus and turned his face. "Please stop," he said softly.

"Why?" Seamus asked, but he removed his hand.

"I…like someone else" Harry whispered, blushing furiously. Seamus was silent.

"Who?" he asked finally, handing Harry back his glasses.

"I can't say," Harry admitted. He blinked behind his frames at Seamus and gave him a small smile.

"Can't or won't?" Seamus asked slyly, tickling Harry's naked chest. Harry giggled and slapped at Seamus' hands.

"Is it a bloke?" Seamus asked, lying down.

Harry nodded and laid down next to him. "But I can't say who, and you can't tell anyone that I told you," he said urgently. "I haven't even told Ron and Hermione." He sighed. "And I don't even know if he really likes me."

Seamus nodded thoughtfully and then turned on his side to look at Harry. "Harry, you're bloody gorgeous and you scream innocent."

"I'm not that innocent," Harry muttered, blushing.

"You just need to play hard-to-get," Seamus said confidently.

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Will you help me?" Harry asked looking earnestly at Seamus.

Seamus grinned wickedly.

--

"Two hundred points from Gryffindor!" Snape thundered from the teachers' table when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall the next morning. He stood up and pointed a finger at Harry.

Harry and Hermione looked stunned. The Gryffindors looked outraged, Hufflepuffs cried, Ravenclaws bowed their heads, and the Slytherins either left or got comfortable in their seats, waiting to see how the scene would unfold.

"What for?" Ron bellowed, his face burning.

"Yes, Severus, what for?" Professor McGonagall demanded, her eyes flashing at her former student.

Draco was one of those Slytherins who had stayed, expecting to enjoy a good Gryffindor beating. Then Snape shot him a look of poison.

"Shite," he whispered to Blaise. "He knows, he _knows_."

"Knows what?" Pansy asked distractedly. Her eyes were fixed on the furiously whispering Snape and McGonagall. McGonagall seemed to have won as she sat down, looking grimly satisfied, and Snape furious.

"Nothing," Blaise and Draco said at the same time. Pansy looked at them oddly, and then Draco subtly dropped his fork on the floor.

Both he and Blaise dove under the Slytherin table and had a whispered conference.

Harry tried to catch Draco's eye, but Draco had disappeared under the table with Blaise. Was Blaise Draco's boyfriend? Harry bit his lip.

"There you are, Harry!" Seamus said loudly. Harry squeaked when Seamus picked him up by the waist and spun him in the air.

"Seamus!" Harry squealed, blushing. "Seamus, put me down!" Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, but Draco had still not surfaced. "He's not looking," he hissed.

"Potter!" Snape roared jumping to his feet again. "Two hundred points from Gryffindor for squealing like a girl!"

"Severus!" McGonagall shrieked. "Potter, two hundred points to Gryffindor for embracing your feminine side!"

"Two hundred points from Gryffindor for not brushing your hair, Potter!"

"Two hundred points _to_ Gryffindor for having a well pressed robe, Potter!"

The students' eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor hourglass. A tornado of rubies swirled in the bottom. Dumbledore smiled gently at everyone and watched the points war his professors were waging with apparent interest.

Strands of hair had fallen out of Professor McGonagall's neat bun, and Snape's burning red face would do a Weasley proud. Both professors looked as though they could continue for ages, but a blinding flash startled them into silence.

"It's ok, pretend like I'm not here," Collin Creevy urged, raising the camera again.

"Detention!" both professors thundered.

Collin cowered and retreated to the Gryffindor table, but not before taking one final shot. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Five points to Gryffindor for being so brave, Mr. Creevy." Collin beamed up at him, and then caught Professor Snape's loathing glare, usually reserved only for Harry Potter.

--

"Want to play Quiddtich later, Harry," Ron asked, leaning against the wall outside the Potions' classroom, waiting for Snape to release the fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

Harry shook his head. "Detention with Snape, remember?"

Ron grimaced and Hermione patted Harry's shoulder. "I know you're not looking forward to it after the Hospital Wing," she said delicately. "I'm sure Professor Snape won't abuse the knowledge he has about your…condition. Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry grimaced. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Yeah, Hermione. Who'd want to be reminded that they'd gotten off on Snape?"

Draco, who had been listening while pretending to read his textbook snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Could you be any more tactless, Ronald?" Hermione demanded. "It's not as though he could help it."

Seamus looked interested and slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry blushed, and glanced discretely in Draco's direction, but Draco had just looked down for his wand. He was going to hex Finnegan into a newt.

But Blaise had surreptitiously stolen Draco's wand.

Harry slumped his shoulders, dejected. Draco had probably forgotten all about yesterday.

"Hey," Seamus said, tipping Harry's chin up. "Why so sad, beautiful?"

"Finnegan," Draco growled.

Seamus blinked innocently at Draco. "Yes? Can I help you something Malfoy?"

"Nothing," Blaise said before Draco could try to wandlessly Crucio Seamus. Blaise flicked his eyes to Seamus' feet and let them slowly travel upward. "Workout, Finnegan?" Blaise asked absently, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…um…maybe a little," Seamus mumbled, blushing.

Harry smiled to himself. He would bet his Firebolt that Draco had just sounded possessive.

Just then the door opened. The fourth year Hufflepuffs looked traumatized as they filed silently out of Potions. The Ravenclaws' eyes were wide, as though they had just experienced an extraordinary phenomenon before they were ready for it. Neville audibly swallowed and rather looked as though he'd like to follow the fourth years. Hermione squared her shoulders and held her head high, clutching her book bag like a shield in front of her.

When Harry caught sight of Snape he tried to hide behind his own book bag but only succeeded in dumping his books on the floor.

Snape pounced. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for the mess, Potter," he said savagely. "And don't forget about detention tonight."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said breathlessly, fighting the urge to throw himself at Snape's feet.

"You're making Cheering Potions," Snape said harshly. "One hour. Start."

Draco slammed his cauldron down on the table, and Snape glared at him. Draco didn't care. He knew that Harry couldn't control his reaction to dominating males, but the idea of Harry being alone with his godfather for three hours made him want to grind his teeth. He used his wand to light the fire under his cauldron, and the flames jumped, licking the ceiling.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

"Sorry," Draco sneered. He was pushing his luck and was raring for a fight. He hoped it would be Finnegan. He'd love to hurt _him_.

Blaise cleared his throat and stepped on Draco's foot. "Sorry, sir," Draco amended sullenly.

For forty-five minutes the class worked in silence. Neville even tried to breathe more quietly, doing all in his power to not bring Snape's wrath down on himself.

Harry was carefully tapping powdered unicorn horn out of a crystal phial and into his cauldron.

Hermione looked on nervously. "Be careful, Harry," she whispered. "Too much will make the potion toxic."

"Potter!" Snape shouted suddenly.

Harry dropped the entire phial into the cauldron, and grey smoke billowed around him. Hermione moaned and Snape swooped down on him.

"Consider your detention doubled for wasting valuable materials, Potter," he said gleefully.

Something inside of Draco snapped. And with a French war cry, handed down from father to son in the Malfoy family, Draco threw the contents of his cauldron at his godfather.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: hehehe! Chapter 6 finally here! It's a bit short, but I felt like it needed to end where it did. Enjoy!

_Something inside of Draco of snapped. And with a French war cry, handed down from father to son in the Malfoy family, Draco threw the contents of his cauldron at his godfather. _

Blaise moaned and covered his face with his hands. "You're an idiot, Malfoy."

But Blaise's remark fell on deaf ears. Draco was staring at his sopping wet godfather with a look of grim triumph on his face. Snape was making odd choking sounds, potion dribbled down his chin, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his normally sallow face a shade of purple that reminded Harry of Vernon Dursley.

Snape turned his back on the classroom and leaned against his desk. His shoulders shook at the violence of his coughing.

"A…Ah..Ahem!" Snape rumbled, clearing his throat. "Ahem, ahem, ahem!"

With his back still turned he walked up to the blackboard and then walked backward to the point where he'd just been standing only moments before. The entire class watched in silence as he repeated this action several times. There was odd about Snape's gait. He wasn't limping. He wasn't dragging about. But he seemed…a little taller at times. And bobbing. It was Ron who figured it out.

"Blood hell, is he on his tiptoes?" Ron whispered very quietly to Hermione. Hermione looked shocked beyond belief and she stared at Snape's feet as though they had done something rather obscene and lewd. She and the rest of the class stared at Professor Snape. The Gryffindors mouths were slightly agape and the Slytherins looked grim. The entire class stared at Professor Snape's black clad feet. "But _why_?" Ron wanted to know.

But Hermione never had the chance to venture a guess as to why the Potions Master was possessed by urge to do such a thing for Snape, (still on tiptoe), whirled, or perhaps the better word would be _twirled_, around.

"Alrighty now! Pip pip, let's carry on then, shall we?" Snape's lips mangled themselves into some sort of twist and all eyes turned to Draco, who was widely considered to be the resident expert on all things Severus Snape. The same thought flitted through everyone's head. Could Snape really be…_No_. No, don't be silly…oh my gawd, yes, yes he _is_! He's _smiling_!

"Sit down you bloody prat," Blaise hissed at Draco. "I think you made him insane."

But Draco didn't care about Snape. He had more important things to be thinking about, such as what he would wear to detention with Harry.

"The mesh shirt?" he mused aloud. "No, no. Not this time. Pity. But I don't want Potter only thinking about _that_. We could _talk_. Get to know one another better. The mesh shirt is _not_ for talking. Pink then?" Draco clenched his fingers. "Come on man, think, think! Not pink, you wanker. Mother likes the pink ones. Green? No of course n…actually…" Draco smiled. "Green then. But what shirt?" His brow furrowed again and he tapped his finger against his chin, giving the matter his utmost concentration and attention.

"Sit _down_, you ass," Blaise growled. He yanked Draco's elbow with a fierce tug.

"Professor Snape, are you feeling well?" Pansy asked hesitantly. Snape was positively beaming at Neville, who was looking rather desperately in his immediate vicinity for something large and rather indestructible to hide him. While he was debating with himself whether he would be better off in his cauldron or behind it, Snape jumped (yes, with his feet pressed firmly side-by-side and his knees bent and his arms reaching out on either side of his lanky from for balance) over to Neville.

Snape pinched Neville's cheeks.

"I've been wanting to do that for years! Very smooth skin. Like a baby's bottom…Longbottom! Ha!" After this declaration he straightened up and sat down on his own desk, his legs swinging in the air. "Well, carry on, carry on."

"I think he swallowed some." All eyes turned to Harry, who he felt his face heat up at some of the terrified expressions the Slytherins bore. "The potion…I think, well, um, maybe I'm wrong…" His mumble trailed off and he ducked his head.

"You're so cute when you blush, Harry," Seamus said huskily, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Wear the mesh one. And you can borrow my leather trousers," Blaise snapped to Draco.

Draco smiled archly at Blaise and nodded. It was as though two generals had agreed on war plans.

"Ms. Granger," Snape called. "Do you know how to yodel?"

"What?" Hermione asked blinking in consternation. "Yodel? No, sir."

"I thought not," Snape said mournfully. "Poor Muggleborn. Come, come," he said, gesturing imperiously at her. "I will teach you. It's quite fun."

In the years to come, Hermione would be able to truthfully say that she had never blushed more furiously in all of her life as she did then. For several seconds she remained in her chair staring stupidly at the beckoning man. Ron nudged her, snickering. Hermione gave Harry a look that clearly said that she thought all of this was his fault.

"But sir," Hermione said desperately, grasping for straws. "What about our potions? Don't you want to see them?"

"Potions smotions," Snape waved his hand dismissively. "_This_ is yodeling." And that was that. This was yodeling.

Draco was largely ignoring the spectacle that was his godfather. Instead he was concentrating on burning two twin holes in Seamus Finnegan's person. Preferably in that area concealed by that cheap, ill fitting robe that was a disastrous shade of black. Not to mention covered in lint. Had no one taught the man a lint-repelling spell? Potter had been touched by that lint-ridden beast! Unforgivable. Draco decided right there and then that a painful death after a round with his father's very well maintained torture chamber was in store for the King of Lint. Silk sheets and an obscene amount of scented bubbles for Harry and himself. And strawberries.

Strangled whale sounds interrupted Draco's fantasy, and he looked up in annoyance.

"No, no Ms. Granger. Like this." Snape cleared his throat and opened his mouth in a large O.

"He looks like that portrait on the third floor," Ron whispered to Harry. "You know, the bloke who tried to eat his shoes."

Harry was just glad it hadn't been him who'd Snape had asked be his yodeling partner.

But before Hermione could want to die from embarrassment anymore than she already did class was over. She didn't bother with her books but instead ran out of the classroom, her cheeks still burning. Harry and Ron were quick to follow her.

"See you in detention, sir," Draco said on his way out.

"Oh now Draco," Snape said, smiling and wagging a finger in Draco's face. "I wouldn't give my godson a detention over spilt potion."

Draco gaped at him. Draco sputtered at him. Draco even swore at him.

Snape chuckled and turned to Blaise. "Boys will be boys," he said airily.

It was in very black humor that Draco stalked out of the room.

Snape hummed a ditty to himself while he looked at the paintings in his office. "How stimulating," he murmured, staring at a painting of a woman being tortured by the Cruciatus. "My, my."

He couldn't recall feeling this cheerful since…He frowned. When had been the last time? He furrowed his brow in concentration. Ah. Not since Remus Lupin had publicly humiliated Sirius Black after the Shrieking Shack incident. Oh how he hated, loathed, despised, and abhorred Black. Pity Draco and Black were cousins.

He stepped in front of his mirror. His mirror gasped, but Snape paid little attention to it.

Merlin, but his mouth tasted foul. He stuck his tongue and observed it in the mirror. He grimaced. It was an awful shade of green. The yodeling. He sighed. He loved to yodel, but there were always side effects. But never his tongue. Usually just a little light-headedness. Why was his mouth tasting like he just taken some po…

"I'll kill him."

"You do that, dear," his mirror said approvingly. "Nearly wet myself I did when I saw you. In all the years we've been together I don't think I've every seen that look on your face. You looked cheerf..."

"SILENCE!" Snape thundered.

"Nice to have you back," his mirror said dryly.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Pounce! Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Pounce! Turn. Step. Step. Step. Step.

"Will you stop it already!" Blaise was lying on his side on the bed, staring at Draco. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't know. How could he _not _give me detention!" Draco scowled darkly at his closet. "And Finnegan," he spat.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I repeat: What are you going to do?"

"Well I'll just have to do it again, won't I? I mean, the detention's tonight." Draco leaned against the bedpost. "But bigger. I'll have to do something bigger." He looked thoughtful. "Is there a spell for spontaneous bladder release?"

Blaise looked disgusted. "Why?"

Draco titled his head back and looked at Blaise from the corner of his eye. "Having owl shite all over you would be worthy of a detention, don't you think?"

Blaise shuddered. "You're a sick man."

Draco shrugged and Blaise looked at him shrewdly. "Why are you going through so much effort anyway? You know Potter will drop his pants if you just snap your fingers. Why both with…the owls?"

The mention of Harry loosed all of Draco's restless energy and he resumed pacing. "Because!" he exploded. For a second he didn't say anything and only paced. "Because I don't want to be like last time every time."

"You don't want mind-blowing sex?" Blaise said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

"Of course I do!" Draco flicked an annoyed look at Blaise. "But that's not it. I want…" His eyes widened and he stopped pacing. In fact, he was fairly sure he stopped breathing.

"What?" Blaise asked, curious.

"I want more than sex."

Draco promptly fainted in shock.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh just shut up," Hermione hissed at Ron. "It's not funny!"

Ron took several deep breaths and tried to keep a straight face. He might have managed it. He was halfway there. Red in the face and shaking with suppressed laughter, yes, but it must be said he was halfway there. He'd dug his fingernails into the tender flesh of his palm and was biting the inside of his cheek. He almost made it.

"Yodel lay yodel lay yodel lay hee whoo," Seamus sang under his breath.

Ron dissolved into a heap of giggling redhead, and had to slump against the wall for support. Seamus joined him with a wild cacophony of snorts and imitations of Hermione's truly terrible yodeling. Sometimes the laughter would die down, and then one of them would simply look at the other and they'd be weak with hysterical giggling again.

"Men," Hermione said with loathing. She looked fiercely at Harry for a moment with such a striking resemblance to Buckbeak that Harry took a step back from her.

"You don't count, Harry," Hermione said savagely.

He supposed he should be offended, but at this point, he was intensely relieved.

--

"I can't believe this isn't in the Restricted Section." Blaise pointed at the spell with a grimace. "Look," he urged, pushing the graphic illustration towards Draco. "Gods, I think I'm going to be ill."

Draco had a manic gleam in his eye as he scanned the page. "It's perfect!"

"What's perfect?"

Draco and Blaise whipped around in their chairs. Pansy blinked at them. "What are you reading?" she asked. She looked suspiciously at them and tried to see the book Draco had covered with his arms.

"Nothing, Pansy," both boys said in unison. They smiled charmingly at her, and she blinked as though dazzled. Draco kicked Blaise under the table and gave him a pointed look.

"My but you look pretty today, Pansy dear," Blaise purred, standing up. He smiled at her, and she licked her lips. He stepped very close to her and brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. "So soft," he said huskily. "Oh, but your collar…Let me help you." He accidentally-on-purpose grazed her breasts with his arms and murmured an apology to which she responded by arching her back.

While Blaise distracted Pansy, Draco memorized the spell. "Fecialum intum," he mumbled to himself. "Fecialum intum." He snapped the book close and at the sound Blaise stepped away from Pansy who looked like she might cry at the loss of contact.

"You're welcome," Bliase said, his voice pulsating with sarcasm as they strode out of the library.

"What? Now you can bed the bitch tonight," Draco said unapologetically. "She gives decent head, anyway."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "As tempting as she sounds, thanks but no thanks. I can do better."

Draco looked interested, or as interested as someone can be while trying to keep a spontaneous bladder release spell fresh in his mind. "Who?"

Blaise shrugged noncommittally. "I have someone in mind."

Blaise remained evasive all the way up to the Owlery. He fielded Draco's leading questions and outright demands for the mystery person's name, house, and gender with vague shrugs, secret smiles, and finally threatening to punch Draco right in the nose when Draco asked if it was someone he, Draco, had had sex with.

Draco's response was to ignore Blaise grandly while he penned a quick note to his godfather, which read:

_Dearest Seviepoo,_

_How are you?_

_Yours truly,_

_Draco Malfoy_

"Bring this to Severus at dinner." Draco stroked his owl's sleek feathers and smiled. "You, my dear, are going to help bring me one step closer to Potter."

Blaise snorted.

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco sneered.

Blaise snorted again.

"Shut _up_!"

--

Hermione and Harry parted ways once they passed the library after Harry swore up and down that he'd go straight back to the common room. It wasn't as though he had someone to meet. No one was going to sneak him away for an afternoon of lusty sex. Because Draco didn't care. Because Draco hadn't even looked at him since that day. Because Draco had Blaise. He had just been imagining things when he thought that Draco had sounded possessive over him when Draco had said Seamus' last name.

"He probably just thought it was annoying," he said glumly. "Or it reminded him of what we did, and that disgusted him."

A startling thought struck him. What if Draco had been drunk? "My first time was with a drunkard!"

Harry bowed his head and blinked back tears as he walked throat corridors. He was stupid to have gotten his hopes up anyway.

"And who needs him?" he muttered. "Not me. I don't miss him one bit."

He sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Not that we had anything anyway. That…time was just…" I was hard to talk around the lump in his throat. "Just sex. Nothing more."

Unbeknownst to Harry, the portraits were all listening attentively to him. Two country maidens looked sympathetically at Harry while a rather fine portrait of Marion the Chaste looked scandalized at how openly Harry was talking about his sordid affair.

"Good," Harry said loudly and with false confidence. "That's the way it should be. Scarhead and Ferret."

His lower lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut. "It doesn't matter," he promised himself as tears feel quickly down his cheeks. "And this is only the potion anyway. I-I don't really c-care."

His chest tightened painfully and he leaned against a tapestry, covering his face with his hands. The portraits didn't say anything, understanding that this was a private matter. A thoughtful centaur went to find the Fat Lady.

--

"My side hurts," Ron moaned, rubbing his ribs.

Seamus grinned but winced when he got up. "Mine too," he admitted. "I'm going back to the common room. Coming?"

Ron shook his head. "I have to find Hermione," he sighed. "Or I shall be sleeping in a Hermione-less bed. See you at diner."

Seamus nodded and headed back to the common room, a thoughtful and amused look on his face. "Malfoy, huh, Harry?" He shook his head. "can't say I saw _that_ one coming."

He whistled jauntily as he made his way back to Gryffindor tower. As he rounded the corridor he looked briefly over his shoulder for any sign of anyone from the other Houses. Gryffindors didn't guard their common room entrance with the anal retentiveness of Slytherins, but they weren't like Hufflepuffs. That lot didn't seem to care who knew where their common room was. Seamus snorted.

"You!" The Fat Lady cried, looking nervous.

Seamus blinked but moved closer to the Fat Lady. Maybe she had just changed the password and he was going to be the first to know?

"You're friends with Harry Potter, aren't you?" she asked, frowning worriedly.

"Yes, why?"

"He's in trouble!" she gasped.

"Where?" he demanded, already pivoting in place, ready to run.

"Fourth floor, east wing."

Seamus sprinted down the hall and ran down the steps he'd just climbed minutes ago. He didn't pause for anyone and had no qualms about shoving people out of his way. "Oi, move it!" he growled at a group of Ravenclaws.

They looked startled. Seamus normally got along with everyone, even a handful of Slytherins. Terrible thoughts flitted through his head as he ran throat corridors, his book bag slamming forcefully against him. What if someone was taking advantage of Harry?

"Dammit, Malfoy, you would really come in handy right about now," he growled. "Stupid wanker!"

Seamus wasn't in love with Harry. He'd never really considered Harry as anything but a mate before Harry had taken the Draught of Submission. Seamus normally went for more exotic creatures, and he had only ever considered Harry exotic in terms of fame, not looks. He rolled his eyes. He'd passed over a real gem. Harry was a fiercely private person; he wouldn't even change in front of the other guys. Seeing Harry without his shirt on really opened up Seamus eyes. Turns out there was something mighty fine under the ridiculously large clothes Harry seemed to favor. Harry was a creature divine with all of his lovely pale skin, startling eyes, and slender build. But Seamus was a man of the present. He would never have Harry. Not even as a casual lover. He was certain of this. But he had Harry as a friend, and if Seamus was anything he was fiercely loyal.

Seamus was prepared to fight of a dozen Death Eaters or at the very least a boggart when he entered the east wing. So when he saw Harry with his knees tucked up against his chest and his head in his arms Seamus was momentarily thrown off balance.

"Harry?" he asked uncertainly.

"Go away," Harry said thickly. "I'm fine."

Seamus made a sound that clearly said he thought otherwise. He sighed and sat down next to Harry, careful not to sit down on Harry's glasses, and he wrapped an arm around the other boy's shoulders.

"He likes you, you know," Seamus said after some time. "Draco Malfoy, that is."

Harry flinched and tried to pull away from Seamus, but Seamus wouldn't let him.

"No he doesn't," Harry insisted in a muffled voice.

"Oh yes he does."

Harry was silent.

"You know, he was quite ready to castrate me in class today," Seamus added. "My balls could feel his eyes boring into them."

Harry only sniffled. But Seamus thought it was a hopeful sniffle.

"Plus, he threw the cauldron at Snape to get detention with you," he said conversationally.

At this Harry looked up. "Really?" he asked, his bright eyes swimming with uncertainty.

"Oh yes," Seamus said with a grin. "He fancies you." Harry gave a happy squeak and threw his arms around Seamus.

"I don't know why I like him. We only had sex," he babbled. "And maybe it's just the potion." He looked earnestly at Seamus. "But I want to try," he finished, looked determined.

Seamus handed Harry back his glasses. "Come on. If we don't show up to dinner Hermione and Ron will think that someone's tried to kill or at least kidnap you. And Malfoy will think that I tried to have my naughty way with you and will arrange a tragic accident for me."

Harry laughed.

--

Blaise gripped Draco's arm, bringing the other boy up short before he could enter the Great Hall. "Are you really going to do this?" he asked, looking seriously at Draco.

"Of course I am," Draco said heatedly, pulling himself out of Blaise's grip. He glared at Blaise as he straightened his shirt. That was the fourth time Blaise had asked since they'd left the Owlery.

"Is it worth it?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. Bliase was his best friend and perhaps the only true friend he had. It was Blaise who had found him in Muggle London after he had stormed out of the Malfoy Manor last Chistmas, wearing nothing but his bathrobe and slippers. It was Blaise who had stood unflinchingly by him when the Ministry demanded to see his left arm, and it was Blaise who informed the Aurors that they were in violation of the Act of 1458, which defended citizens from Aurors without warrants. Yes, Blaise was his best friend.

But he was not about to tell his best friend that he wanted to rescue Potter because the idea of Potter being frightened or upset made him want to hurt something. He wasn't about to say that this had nothing to do with being possessive. He lov-had feelings for Har-Potter. There were lines Slytherins drew. And this was one of those lines drawn in bold, italicized, and underlined.

"Yes," he hissed.

Blaise sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Let's just get this over with then."

--

Snape sat on the edge of his seat, scanning the crowd of students entering the Great Hall for a flash of white blonde hair. Draco wore it long these days, and it stood out in sharp relief against the hundreds of brunettes in the school. There.

"Found you," Snape said quietly to his goblet.

Professor Flitwick looked nervously at Snape as the man stood up. With silky grace, Snape strode down to the Slytherin table. When students began to titter as he passed by them, some of them doing impressions of him from that day in class, his temper honed to razor sharpness.

Draco was already seated, his back to Snape. Good. The element of surprise would flavor this experience.

--

Blaise was seated across the table from Draco. It was he who noticed Draco's owl had flown in, and he pointed it out to Draco.

"There she is," he said quietly. He closed his eyes. Really, this was just too much to watch.

"Snape's coming," Pansy remarked as she poured herself some water.

Blaise looked up. Snape was indeed coming. And he looked like death in all of its glory. "Draco," Blaise hissed "Snape's behind you, and he looks furious. I don't think that you'll need the spell."

But Draco had ignored Blaise after he heard Snape was behind him. He whipped around in his seat, his wand pointed in the air at his owl, who circled above Snape. "_Fecialum intum!_" he bellowed at the same time Snape said, "Detention, Malfoy!"

Blaise covered his eyes with his hands. He was not prone to the flights of fancy or dramatic gestures that appealed to Draco so very much, but some situations warranted an appropriate, symbolic even, gesture. This was such a time.

Snape screamed in rage as owl excrement hit him. Draco's owl hooted and she dropped Draco's letter on top of Snape's befouled head. Snape clawed at the sealed envelope, ripping the letter open. His eyes grew beadier and beadier as he read the short note.

"MALFOY!"

"DETENTION!" Snape howled, pointing his finger at Draco. His face was a furious shade of red and his eyes glittered with fury. "DETENTION EVERYDAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE! AND I'M TELLING YOUR MOTHER!"

Draco felt rather faint. "What have I done?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Wait," Seamus commanded just before the Entrance Hall.

A tremor coursed through Harry's body and Seamus rolled his eyes. "Stop that," he said waspishly. "I'm not that kind of boy."

Harry blinked at him.

"I mean, I'm not like Malfoy. I'm like you…" Seamus looked at Harry's flushed cheeks and rubbed his jaw. "Kind of. Anyway, you can't go in there with those red eyes. Dead give away mate that you've been blubbering."

Seamus waved his wand and Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. "Uh, Seamus," he said, blinking rapidly, and tears splashed down his cheeks.

"They're special tears," Seamus said. "See, all better. Neat trick isn't it? Learned it while dating my first boyfriend."

Harry's eyes cleared just in time for him to catch Seamus' bitter smile before the other boy winked at him. "Anyway, tallyho, yeah?"

Harry didn't know what to say, and guilt prowled in his stomach, snapping its jaws. How could he have never noticed Seamus' unhappiness? He should have…but that thought trailed off when Seamus tugged on his hair.

"Nothing doing, Harry. Come on, let's go find your Slytherin."

"He's not mine," Harry muttered, and they walked into the Entrance Hall.

Seamus merely raised his eyebrows and they walked over to Gryffindor table. Hermione flicked one of her calculating looks at him, and he was very glad that Seamus had used that spell. Hermione was, by nature, overprotective, obsessive, and a bloodhound when it came to wrangling out the truth. Considering the yodeling performance in Potions, he was sure she was just itching to channel Sigmund Freud's spirit and analyze his lov-feelings, FEELINGS, for Draco.

"You're late," she snapped, but it was halfhearted, and Seamus parried with mutterings about hormonal staircases that enjoyed being beastly to hungry Gryffindors. His inane chatter annoyed Hermione and she quickly changed the conversation to Harry's detention.

Harry's stomach clenched and his gaze involuntarily left his pork ribs to search the Teacher's table for Snape. But Snape was staring at the Entrance Hall, and Harry's stomach relaxed. He really didn't think he could handle Snape staring at him tonight. Detention was going to be awkward enough. He stretched for the pumpkin juice, leaning across the table and trying not to fall into the big bowl of peas.

"Harry!"

He startled and his fingers missed the craft of pumpkin juice. "What?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I said, what do you think he's going to make you do?"

Ron swallowed an enormous mouthful of mashed potatoes so that he could offer his opinion. "Bet it'll be something really awful," he said darkly. "Look's like Malfoy's Cheering Potion has worn off, and Snape looks like a constipated troll if you ask me."

Then, Ron snagged the pumpkin juice before Harry could get it. Harry sighed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw long, pale blonde hair, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Draco. Trying not to be obvious he remained stretched out over the table and turning his head with as much as he thought he could get away with, pretending to be staring at the lemon pie, so that he could look at Draco. He wasn't wearing robes, and Harry's felt goosebumps on his arms as he watched him walk over to the Slytherin table. He liked how his long hair swept across his back. He liked Draco's profile when he turned to look at something. He liked how those pants looked on Draco. A lot.

"I didn't ask you," Hermione said severely, giving Ron a disgusted look.

Harry became instantly aware of the fact that he was practically sprawled across the table and he quickly grabbed the craft of pumpkin juice before anyone could ask what he was doing.

A fourth year stood behind Hermione, his goblet stretched out before him. "Can you pour me some? Jacky's charmed ours into lemonade."

Harry lifted the craft and was about to pout it into the boy's goblet when two shouts slapped Great Hall into Silence. The fourth year spun around, and looking through the neck of the craft, Harry got a distorted picture of a jet of pale pink light flying from Draco's wand and then hitting an owl and something liquid and white falling though the air to land on Snape's head, followed by a fluttering envelope. Snape's face went celery green before flushing a mutated sort of burgundy.

"MALFOY!"

"DETENTION!" Snape howled, pointed his finger at Draco. "DETENTION EVERYDAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE! AND I'M TELLING YOUR MOTHER!"

The craft slipped from his fingers and he distantly heard cries of dismay. He felt something cold and wet on his legs, and the entire Great Hall was in uproar. Someone was tugging him to his feet and over the bench, but Harry's gaze was still locked on Draco. Stunned and curious questions buzzed about in his brain, but his mind was still echoing with the scene that had just unfolded before his eyes. He was being led out of the Great Hall, and he remembered what Seamus had told him when he'd been crying.

_"He threw the cauldron at Snape to get detention with you." _

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Harry, _come on!_" Seamus implored, practically dragging him now.

Harry obeyed, his mind still reeling. "Where are we going?" he asked when they got to the stairs.

"To get you dressed, of course! You have detention with Malfoy!" Seamus said excitedly, taking the stairs two at a time.

--

Snape scourgified himself before turning malevolently on Draco. "Tonight. At nine," he spat before striding out of the Great Hall. The students parted for him, and he glided through the throngs of open-mouthed students like a hot knife through butter.

Dumbledore, naturally, was eating his pudding with a very small spoon and didn't look up from his bowl.

Collin Creevey bemoaned that his camera was out of film.

Draco contemplated turning his wand on himself.

Blaise looked at the chaos and his shell-shocked friend. He sighed. Why did these things always fall into his lap? Couldn't he for once have a day in which Draco wasn't stirring up any trouble? Just one blessed day where he could pretend to lead a halfway normal life? Draco's left eye eyebrow was twitching now, a sure sign of impending doom.

He leaned over the table and whispered two words in Draco's ear.

"Harry Potter."

Draco's eyebrow twitched one last time before calming itself.

--

"Abysmal."

"Terrible."

"Dark Arts, that one, Harry. You should burn it."

Harry flung his last t-shirt onto the floor. "Horrible", "disgusting", "vomit-inducing", "unforgivable", and "kill-yourself-from-shame!" shirts surrounded him. He stared at his purged closet.

"I have nothing to wear!"

Seamus, who was reclining on his bed, rolled his eyes. "Don't be over-dramatic, Harry. I left you your dress robes."

"I can't wear dress robes to detention!" Harry exclaimed.

Seamus sighed. "More's the pity. You look rather dashing in them." He smiled wickedly when Harry blushed and scuffed his shoe on the floor, muttering denial.

"It's not that Malfoy's got in bad for you because you've got a killer wardrobe," Seamus explained, wrinkling his nose at a particularly ugly Crayola-flesh colored shirt. "Obviously, he likes what's underneath the clothes, ahem, and what's on the inside, and all that good nosh. That's the important stuff, and believe me, if he's willing to throw a cauldron at Snape and then get an owl to shit on him, I'd say that he's really into what's on the inside."

Harry nodded. This all made sense; so what was the big deal about the clothes? It wasn't like they were Ron's dress robes back in fourth year. Besides, it wasn't like he had a lot to work with. Those clothes were Dudley's old things. And he didn't have time to go shopping for clothes! Besides, it was boring.

His mutinous look must have tipped Seamus off that on this subject, Harry was not as vulnerable to the Draught of Submission as he was on other occasions. It was like trying to reason with a chest of drawers.

"Harry, you want to impress Draco, right?" Seamus asked. At the spark that glinted in Harry's eye, Seamus got the feeling that he was on the right track.

"Well," Seamus said slowly, "maybe it's just me, but I'd say that Draco's rather particular about his appearance."

Harry immediately began trying to flatten his riotous hair.

"No, you're hair's fine, Harry. In fact, you look great. If you were to walk into detention looking just like you do now Draco's eyes would widen and he'd start thinking about you in very non-Hufflepuff ways." Seamus didn't look at Harry as he said this. In fact, another idea was whirring about in his mind.

Harry smiled. Draco would widen his eyes!

"But, if you let me dress you, his mouth'll drop and he'll have to restrain himself from doing very Slytherin things to you."

Oh. Oohh.

--

The color was beautiful on him, and his eyes just popped behind their frames as though to say, "Why hello there you beautiful, sexy Slytherin you."

And the way it hugged his body! Seamus sighed. It was tight in usually ignored areas, and transformed them into attention grabbing areas of his anatomy. Like the shoulder. And color bones. To think that the humble t-shirt could enlighten the world to Harry Potter's ridiculously good looks moved him.

"I am not wearing this! It's a girl's shirt!" Harry hissed, bright red. He spun around and faced the mirror, staring at himself.

Parvarti and Seamus ignored him, stars twinkling in their eyes.

"Who makes it?" Seamus asked in a dreamy voice.

"Adela Nightmoon" Parvarti said. "I wish it looked half as good on me as it does on him."

"Life's such a bitch," Seamus agreed. "Look at how my trousers fit on him." They stared appreciatively. Parvarti had shown them a useful tailoring charm, and then Seamus' trousers had fit him like a dream.

Harry just sputtered.

--

Draco paced in front of his closet. "I can't do. I can't do it. You can't make me, Blaise! I just won't do it. I can't do it, I tell you!"

Blaise snapped his book shut in annoyance. "You are going to do it, so let's stop pretending that you won't, all right?"

Draco sat down heavily on his bed and cradled his face in his hands. "It's just the potion," he said.

"It might be." He wasn't going to lie. Potter might only be attracted to his best friend because of the potion.

Draco flinched.

"But I don't think it is."

The naked hope in Draco's eyes made Blaise hope he was right.

"I don't know what to do," Draco admitted.

"Well, get dressed first, you prat," Blaise suggested, but there was no heat in his voice.

Draco dressed quickly but carefully. What he was wearing would set the tone, he had no doubt. Nothing too scandalous. No mesh. A halfhearted smirk tugged at his lips for a second before he contemplated his wardrobe with more seriousness. This was more than sex. He needed to project reliability, safety, trust, l…lo…love. At random he grabbed a shirt and rubbed the material between his fingers. Not silk. Not tonight, anyway. Maybe at Christmas. He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself.

He had been planning to wear green, but a pale blue button-down caught his eye. He could roll up the sleeves…and with those grey trousers…He smiled as he tied his hair.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. An unusual outfit for Draco, but fitting.

"Just be a gentleman," he said dryly.

--

"You'll slay him," Seamus promised, and Harry gave him an endearingly nervous smile. They'd told Parvarti not to breathe a word, and for once it looked as though the gossip queen would hold her tongue.

They had harangued Harry into wearing her green shirt, and when he had wondered aloud if he should do something with his hair, Seamus and Parvarti had shouted "NO!"

Seamus walked him down to the dungeons, reminding Harry that breathing was important.

Meanwhile, Blaise was giving Draco a pep talk.

"Remember, he's a Gryffindor," Blaise said for the sixth time.

Draco nodded shortly. He'd keep his hands to himself. He wouldn't even look at Harry with anything akin to lust in his eyes. He'd be pure as driven snow damn it! This was strictly a getting-to-know-one-another evening. All thoughts of sex were banned.

He couldn't breathe when he saw Harry.

"Hi," Harry breathed softly, blushing, but meeting Draco's eyes.

Well fuck the ban on sexy thoughts. He wanted Harry now. Right here. No, in a bed. With candles. Harry deserved candles. He wanted to touch, taste, and give pleasure. Gently, gently, he reminded himself as he looked at Harry's fair skin.

He swallowed and could only nod.

"Inside," Snape snarled.

Draco jumped, and Harry scurried into the room. Draco appreciated how the material moved over Harry's shoulder blades before following him into the room. Snape glared at him and he returned the look with a feral and dangerous look in his eyes. Draco had been forged by Lucius Malfoy's cruelty and Narcissa's biting ambivalence, her oscillations between being overprotective and abandoning him. He was a survivor, and he had few loyalties. Draco's intensity registered with his godfather because he largely ignored Harry throughout the detention, focusing his rage on Draco.

"You'll be scooping out beetle eyes," he said coldly. "You will end at one."

For the first two hours they worked silently. Harry sneaked looks at Draco whenever he thought no one was looking. Draco caught most of the looks, and it kindled a burning in his soul unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life. He knew he was beautiful. He knew how many people stared at him with lust, possessiveness, and greed. But Harry's looks weren't like the others. Shades of lust and possessiveness colored his furtive looks, but there was also hope, eagerness, and something Draco couldn't pin his finger on.

The looks that Draco didn't catch, Snape did. His knuckles clenched with every single one, and he remembered the memory he saw in his Pensieve.

--

Seamus and Blaise watched Harry and Draco go into the room, and for a few seconds they stared at the shut door. Out of the corner of his eye, Seamus could see Blaise looking utterly composed, and that made him even more nervous than he was.

Just as he was about to look away, he caught Blaise looking at him openly. He could feel his cheeks burning, and he turned on his heel. "I, uh…um…gotta pee," he muttered. He had taken two steps before Blaise's voice brought him up short.

"Why don't you use the one in Slytherin," he offered silkily. "It's closer."

Seamus' eyes widened and he turned around. Blaise was already leading the way.

--

Harry gently dropped another of the delicate eyes into the bottle. He had no idea how many he'd done, but his hands, shoulders, and neck ached. He rolled his shoulders and sighed.

Harry's aches did not go unnoticed by Draco. Maybe Harry'd let him give him a massage. The idea of touching Harry sounded fantastic to Draco. He hadn't enjoyed Harry long enough the other time. He had never intended for it to go that far, either. But once he'd felt Harry pressed up against him he was intoxicated, addicted.

If there was a next time, he'd take his time, touching every inch of Harry's body, memorizing every contour. Then he'd taste him. He had never been a generous lover, but he found that with Harry the inclination to give as well as receive came naturally. The desire to kiss Harry was so strong that he bit the inside of his lip hard.

At exactly one o'clock Snape released them. Harry stiffly got up, suppressing a groan, as he washed his hands and forearms in the icy water. He tried to take as much time as he could. What would come after detention?

"Same time tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said stiffly.

Draco nodded sharply. "Goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, Professor," Harry said softly. Snape made a sound in the back of his throat and Harry's eyes widened. And just as he had come in, he left, scurrying.

--

"Nice bathroom," Seamus commented, staring at the large bathroom.

Blaise nodded, and Seamus bit his lip. He didn't have to pee; he'd just said that because he'd gotten so uncomfortable. "Um, I only said I had to pee in hopes of catching a looksie at your loo," he said jauntily. "It's cool, um, grand. But, um, I'm really knackered, so I'm off to bed. Thanks though…"

"Why don't you sleep here? It's closer," Blaise suggested smoothly.

Seamus shivered as Blaise's dark, rich voice resonated in his very bones. He found himself agreeing before even thinking about it. He heard the ache in his voice and felt his cheeks flame.

This was such a bad idea. He hadn't spent the night with a boy since his first boyfriend. This was such a bad idea! His feet moved as though they had a will of their own, and he followed Blaise into dormitory.

"Where should I sleep?" Seamus whispered even though they were alone, and he took off his shoes.

"Mine's closest," Blaise said, already reaching to guide Seamus into the bed. He slipped out of his shoes before following Seamus into the bed and drawing the curtains shut. He gently pushed Seamus down across the bed.

Blaise settled himself on top of Seamus and began breathing in his ear. Seamus' hip bucked. Blaise ran his tongue very lightly over Seamus' skin and a soft moan slipped past Seamus' lips. Blaise chuckled and it sounded like fine black velvet, making Seamus' breathing quicken.

"You're a loud one, Seamus?" Blaise asked. He ground his hips against Seamus and Seamus gasped, whimpering. Blaise didn't stop grinding his hips as he leaned over to presses his mouth close to Seamus' ear.

"Should I Silence you or the bed?"

**Edited- find it at Skyehawke . com – username HydrogenPeroxide**

TBC

A/N: If your looking to read another good story, check out A Mile of Revelations by FemmeFerret.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry twisted his fingers nervously as he stood in the hallway waiting for Draco. All throughout detention he had wanted a chance to be alone with Draco, and now that he was about to be, he didn't have a clue about what he should do. He heard Snape and Draco speaking, and he jumped at the sound of Draco's footsteps. Bolting seemed like a very good idea. Just as he turned to dash down the hall, Draco called his name.

"Potter?"

"Y-yes?" he squeaked, pivoting quickly. His feet tangled together and he lost his balance, his glasses slipping down his nose as he stumbled.

Draco lurched forward, grabbing Harry's arm and tugging him towards him just as Harry regained his balance and pushed off hard against the floor. Draco's forehead slammed into Harry's left eye socket. Pain exploded behind Harry' eyes, and he distantly heard Draco swear over the roaring sound in his ears.

"Harry?" Draco asked, staring in horror at Harry, who was bent at the waist, a hand pressed against his eyes. "Harry, oh shit. Let me see."

He pried Harry's hand away and stared at the growing lump on his eyebrow. Harry hissed when Draco gently touched his eyebrow, and Draco winced. "Hospital Wing," he said firmly, determined not to think about the plans he had had for Harry that night.

"I'm fine," groaned Harry. He straightened quickly and swayed on his feet. The pain had cleared his head fantastically and he felt like his old self again. "I'm okay."

"It's the size of the Snitch now, Harry," Draco said shortly, tugging on his arm.

Harry wrenched out of his grip. Something flashed over Draco's face, and Harry blinked, confused. Had Draco just looked hurt? Harry looked closely at Draco again, but Draco's face was unreadable.

Harry was baffled. Why should Draco be hurt about him not wanting to go to the Hospital Wing? Didn't he want to spend time with Harry? Harry sucked his breath in sharply. It wasn't hurt he had seen on Draco's face. It had been disappointment—disappointment that he wouldn't be able to shuffle Harry off to Madam Pomfrey and go back to Zabini. Harry's eyes stung, and he blinked quickly.

"I've gotta go," he said thickly, turning away.

"Harry, wait," Draco said, grabbing his wrist.

Harry didn't resist. The pain was fading but still sharp enough that he barely felt the effects of the potion. He could barely see out of his left eye as he looked at wall, determined not to cry. He wouldn't give Draco the satisfaction. Why hadn't he broken Draco's grip yet?

"Are you crying?" Draco asked, shocked.

"No," Harry said, hating himself when his voice caught. He didn't know what Draco was playing at—pushing him away only to yank him back.

Draco sighed. Why would Harry rip his arm out of his grip only to start crying when Draco had tried to respect his wishes and back off? Was the potion fluctuating? What did Harry really feel?

"Why don't you want to go to the Hospital Wing?" Draco asked, feeling as though that was the place to start.

"Because…" Harry trailed off, not wanting to sound too clingy. His wrist hung limp in Draco's hand, and he tried not to be sidetracked by how very nice it felt. "The Hospital Wing sucks," he muttered, looking up at Draco through his lashes.

He refused, utterly refused to break down and pour his heart out, although the urge to was starting to come back to him as potion acclimated to the dulling pain. Draco watched him closely, and Harry felt his cheeks flame.

"I have some healing potions in my room," Draco offered after a long pause.

Harry nodded, not sure what to say. Was Draco offering to get them for him or was he inviting Harry to follow him to his room? And if he was, was he expecting Harry to wait outside of his room in the hallway or actually come inside?

Draco had to turn around quickly so that Harry wouldn't see him grinning like a loon. He was going to have Harry in his room! Granted, it wasn't exactly as he had planned—when he had imagined bringing Harry up to his room it hadn't been for potions but Draco would take what he could get. There was just the tiny problem of his roommates. Crabbe and Goyle would be snoring like wildebeests, but Nott would still be awake—the curse of living with an insomniac.

With a sinking in his stomach he realized that it wasn't laundry day, and that his hampers were stuffed with clothes. Harry didn't strike Draco as being a neat freak, but it would be his first time in the Slytherin dormitory, and Draco wanted to impress Harry.

Harry hurried after Draco, who had begun walking so fast that Harry had to trot to keep up with him, making him curse genetics for making him so short. At least he had a few inches on Hermione, but he was a good four inches shorter than Draco. With a scowl he realized that Zabini was exactly the same height as Draco. Draco probably liked tall boys, and Harry seriously considered a Lengthening Potion until he plowed straight into Draco, who had stopped in front of a stone wall, and Draco said, "Wow, good thing you're so small," as he steadied Harry.

"Yes," breathed Harry, suddenly very much in love with his genes. He stared eagerly up at Draco through his right eye.

"Shit," Draco muttered, wincing as he looked at Harry. "You bruise fast."

Self-conscious, Harry covered his left eye with his hand; or rather he cupped his hand over it as his eye had swollen to unbelievable proportions.

Draco looked sideways at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, hoping that someone would come out of it so that he wouldn't have to say the password in front of Harry. As crazy as he was about the Gryffindor, he was still loyal to his house.

Hoping that it would work his bent his head and pressed his lips against Harry's ear and whispered, "shh."

He felt Harry tremble and take a shuddering breath, his eyes unfocused. Draco quickly turned around and muttered the password to the wall, which became a door and admitted them. He gently tugged Harry into the common room. He opened his mouth to tell Harry to be quiet when a deafening sound shook the room.

Draco yanked Harry behind him and drew his wand. Harry tensed behind him and one of his hands fisted the material on Draco's shirt. Draco gripped his wand tighter as he stepped further in the room, and he stopped dead.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were sleeping on the couches. "It's okay," he said quietly, smiling slightly. So, Blaise had a date did he? "Let's go."

"But…" Harry said, peeking over Draco's shoulder. "But what are they sleeping down here for?"

"Blaise is entertaining company," Draco drawled, already walking up the stairs and smiling very widely at the fact that Harry was still holding onto the back of his shirt.

"He locked them out?"

Draco shook his head. "No, he probably just drew the curtains on his bed. They get the message."

Harry peered over his shoulder, looking back down at the three Slytherins. "And they just respect that?" he asked incredulously.

Draco laughed. "Blaise is particularly…thorough when taking revenge," he said carefully, not wanting to frighten Harry.

"Oh," said Harry, gripping Draco's shirt a little tighter. "So we can't get the potions?" he asked.

Draco thought that Harry sounded both disappointed and hopeful. "No, we can get them," he assured Harry. "Blaise wouldn't do anything, well, not much anyway, to me."

He pushed the door open and padded across the floor to Blaise's bed. With every step that drew them closer to Blaise, Harry pressed himself closer to Draco, who had deliberately began walking slower so as to enjoy the feel of Harry pressed up against him. He poked his wand at where the curtains came together, and very gently pulled one of them back so that he could see who was inside. He could make out Blaise in the darkness and there was someone else…

"Seamus?" Harry squeaked, sounding floored. Draco pulled back the curtain more, his jaw dropping.

Draco blinked at his friend. It was rare that he was so thoroughly flummoxed. Finnegan? But wasn't he always hanging over Harry like a cheap cloak? And hadn't Blaise had someone in mind?

"You have four seconds to pull the curtains back together before I kill you," said Blaise in a sleep-roughened voice. Harry squeaked again, and Draco hurriedly closed the curtains, still reeling.

Well, if that's what Blaise wanted…Draco smiled smugly to himself. This got rid of his urge to kill Finnegan for hanging about Harry rather nicely. "Did you know?" he asked Harry quietly.

Eyes still wide, Harry shook his head. Draco shrugged. "Me neither. Come on, my bed's over here."

His bed was next to Blaise's, and he pulled the curtains back to let Harry in first. Harry blushed scarlet but hurriedly toed of his shoes before entering. Did his feet smell? Were his socks dorky? He peeked down at them and nearly groaned aloud. Of all days, he had to be wearing the socks Dobby made for him. He sat on them before Draco could get a good look them.

Draco was rummaging around in his nightstand before he pulled out a crystal vial and a small jar. He unscrewed the top and smeared some of the salve on it before dabbing it on Harry's eye. "This'll get rid of the bruising and swelling," he said.

Harry blinked contentedly at him and closed his eyes. It felt very nice to have Draco touching him. He hoped it meant something that Draco was putting the salve on him rather than just handing Harry the jar. Harry liked to think that it meant something.

"This is a Pain Relieving Potion," said Draco, holding out the vial.

Harry winced. "The last time I thought I was drinking one of those I ended up taking the Draught of Submission," he whispered, desperately hoping that he wasn't being rude.

But Draco only chuckled. "I know; I heard. Believe me, though—this is a Pain Relieving Potion.

Nervously, Harry downed the potion, but nothing happened except that the pain in his head disappeared after a few moments. He smiled at Draco. "Thank you," he said, suddenly shy now that they were just sitting next to one another.

Draco nodded. "I like you Harry," he said, coming closer.

Harry blushed. "I like you, too."

"I really like you," said Draco, coming even closer. Harry trembled as he felt Draco's lips graze his cheek.

"I-I-I really…" began Harry, struggling to string the words together as Draco began doing something extremely wonderful to his neck. "Ohhh," he groaned, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and pressing himself closer to the Slytherin.

For a few minutes, Draco enjoyed teasing Harry with chaste kisses that he was very slowly developing into something more adult. He could feel Harry's hard cock pressing against him, and a part of him wanted to take Harry hard and fast. No, he told himself sternly. He wanted to spoil Harry.

"Draco," panted Harry, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. Draco ran his tongue across Harry's lips, and Harry moaned, parting his lips to let Draco explore. Draco lost himself in plundering Harry's mouth for a few moments before he gently disentangled himself.

"Harry," he said, his breathing heavy. "Harry, are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

Draco still looked uncertain, and so Harry began to unbutton Draco's shirt with trembling fingers. Draco held himself still as Harry explored his chest, frequently looking up at Draco for permission. Seeing Harry take the initiative was hot.

"Draco, I…" Harry said shakily, overwhelmed with desire. "Please," he begged, looking beseechingly at Draco. "Let me please you."

Draco wanted nothing more than to strip Harry and push his cock into Harry's wonderfully tight ass. He took off his trousers and pants and leaned against the headboard. Harry's eyes widened when he saw Draco's hard cock, and he automatically reached out for it.

"Not asking for permission, Harry?" said Draco, thinking he knew what Harry wanted.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry gasped, snatching his hand back.

"I think you need to make it up to me," said Draco. "Strip."

Pleasure pulsed through Harry's body as he thought of being redeemed, and as he yanked off his clothes, he very distantly realized that it wasn't completely the potion that was making him feel the way he did. Being submissive—wanting to please and then be found pleasing—his world focused on those two thoughts. "Yes," he moaned, turned on by the very thought of pleasing Draco.

He had never done it before, but he knew almost instinctively what Draco wanted. He lowered his mouth on Draco's cock and swirled his tongue around the leaking head. Draco hissed in pleasure and grabbed Harry by the hair, keeping him where he wanted. Harry took more of Draco into his mouth greedily, loving the pleased sounds Draco was making.

He bobbed his head up and down, and Draco clutched his hair tighter, thrusting into Harry's mouth. "Good boy," he groaned, and Harry whimpered in pleasure, his own cock begging to be touched. With a few last thrusts he came in Harry's mouth.

Trembling, Harry collapsed on top of Draco, overwhelmed. He was on the verge of coming himself. Draco flipped their positions, already hard again as he stared into Harry's lust filled eyes.

"You were a good boy, Harry," he said, grinding against Harry, who arched, whimpering. "A very good boy."

"Oh oh oh oh," moaned Harry, tossing his head back as he felt his orgasm build. "Draco, oh, Draco," he panted, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Look at me, Harry," Draco growled.

An added burst of pleasure shot through Harry as he obeyed, and whimpering incoherently and his eyes locked with Draco's, he orgasmed. Draco didn't stop grinding against him until he orgasmed for a second time, and when he did he sagged against Harry, spent.

"Harry," he murmured. "Spend the night with me."

"Okay," sighed Harry, enjoying Draco's weight. Draco shifted to his side and pulled Harry toward him protectively.

"Mine," he said tiredly, sounding sated.

Harry smiled into his pillow as Draco wound his arms around Harry even tighter.


End file.
